


Glee Trek

by Seeroftodayandtomorrow



Category: Glee, Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Crack Crossover, Don't Take Seriously, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-02-28 09:32:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13268622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seeroftodayandtomorrow/pseuds/Seeroftodayandtomorrow
Summary: Space - the Final Frontier. These are the Adventures of the Gleeship New Directions. Its mission: to explore new music, to seek out new choreographies and mash-ups. To boldly sing what no one has sung before.





	1. Episode 1: Encounter in the Choir Room

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I wrote in collaboration with my husband, who offered lots of ideas, suggestions, trek knowledge, and his services as a beta reader. The characters are Glee, the setting Star Trek; the stories, something in between. It's meant as pure crack.

 

  _Captain's Log, Stardate 41153.7 With regard to the upcoming Fleetorials, I have tried to motivate the crew, but since we are the only Gleeship of any distinction left in Starfleet, it has been hard to convince them to give their all. They are too assured of victory to care for their performance. To bring back their passion, I have rearranged an ancient poem, and will perform it for them as a rap._

 

Captain William T. Schuester of the Gleeship New S.S, Directions was rapping his heart out.

 

_Felis catus is your taxonomic nomenclature, hey_

_An endothermic quadruped, carnivorous by nature, yeah, yeah..._

 

Performing with his usual enthusiasm, he let his gaze wander over his small audience. They didn't seem as passionate as he would like, even though he danced until he was sweaty. He even pulled out all the stops, stealing Lieutenant Commander Abrams' glasses and activating the power on his hover chair so he shot a few meters through the room before he could stop it. It had always worked before, even though Abrams never seemed to appreciate it. But this time, as he pulled them up to dance, they only half-heartedly joined him for a few moves before sitting down again.

Of course, William acted unimpressed by the lack of enthusiasm, and kept performing. After all, the show must go all over the place; there was no way but forward.

 

 

_A tail is quite essential for your acrobatic talents, yeah_

_You would not be so agile if you lacked -_

 

“Shut up!” a voice yelled. Will spun around and saw a blonde-haired woman in a track suit standing in the room. He had never seen her before, and had received no notion about visitors.

“What-” he began, then found that although his lips were moving, no sound came out of his mouth.

“I said shut up,” the woman said, then made a show of looking around the room. “What a pathetic display of human inferiority! Look at you rag-tag bunch of planetary rejects!” she raged, and Will tried in vain to speak until he noticed he was opening and closing his mouth like one of the fish in his ready room, and stopped. It seemed like there was nothing to do but wait till the...being released her hold on him.

“This is such a sad waste of potential,” the strange woman continued. “Or has there even been potential, I wonder? After all, the human race has wasted its time with the arts since the beginning of time. Maybe it's just that you are no good for anything else.”

She waved at him, and Will noted with relief that he could speak again.

“What are you doing on my ship? Identify yourself!” he demanded.

“Oh, the captain has found his tongue,” the woman said. ”We call ourselves the Sue. Or you can call me that. It's all much the same. As to what I am doing here -” She spread her arms and smiled. “I come to you as a voice of reason. I ask you to stop what you are doing! Stop torturing the galaxy with your mash-ups and your earth-centric ditties! Stop singing!”

“Why should we do that?” Will asked. He briefly wondered if he should inquire how she got on the ship in the first place, but that mystery seemed unimportant in comparison to the outrageous demand she made of him.

Bold as you please, the woman—Sue—sat down on his chair as if it belonged to her. She was lucky it wasn’t the captain's chair on the bridge, or else he would -

“First of all, because you're bad,” Sue said, leaning back and crossing her arms. “Seriously, have you heard yourselves? You'll never make it to Quadrantals, not if there's some justice left in the world.”

She continued, shouting over the outraged gasps and protests of the crew. “And more importantly, because you shouldn't. Humans just don't have the capacities. You are such a pathetic little race. Look at you! You've made it into space, but you are inferior to every known race in the galaxy! The Vulcans are paragons of logic and the greatest scientists of the galaxy! The Klingons are fierce warriors! They can afford to waste some time singing and dancing, but you can't!”

The botanist, Tina Cohen-Chng, raised her hand. “But not all of us are human! Chief Chang here is Vulcan, and Mr. Puck, who's on the bridge, is a Klingon, and Lieutenant Berry-”

“I'm half-Betazoid!”, Miss Berry interrupted.

Sue didn't seem impressed. “I stopped listening at 'but'. It makes no difference, though. If you choose to serve an inferior race, that makes you even worse!”

Now Will was angry. “Enough!” he shouted. “How dare you come in here and...and prosecute and judge us for what we are!”

“Prosecute and judge? What an interesting idea!”

 

Suddenly, the scene around them changed. Instead of the chairs in the choir room there were benches. Will himself was sitting at a table, and Sue was standing before him, wearing a judge's cap and gown with track stripes on the sides.

“What is going on?” he demanded, rising, but Sue just glared at him and he found himself sitting down again, cowering over his table. He forced himself to sit up straight. Sue raised a hand and hit the top of the piano with a gavel that had not been there before.

“Justice will be served! You will now answer to the charge of being a grievously untalented and undeserving race.”

Lieutenant Commander Hummel raised his hand. “If I may?”

Surprisingly, Sue nodded.

“In the year 2036, the New United Nations declared that no Earth citizen could be made to answer for the crimes of their race and forebears.”

“Well, but we do not adhere to such ancient, barbaric laws. And as I was so kindly informed earlier, not all of you are from Earth—so I do not condemn you as Earth citizens, but as what you claim to be—performers. I do, however, condemn the human race with you.”

“That is hardly fair!” William exclaimed.

“Fair doesn't come into it. I am Sue—my will is done.”

William realized there was no way to talk to Sue—and no way to resist her, either, not with the powers she had demonstrated. So their only chance was to go along with her, and win the trial.

”You accuse the human race of being untalented,” he said. “Do you have any proof?”

“Are you certain you want a full disclosure of musical ugliness? So be it, fool!”

Out of thin air, a scroll appeared in Sue's hand. When she unrolled it, it trailed down to the floor and dragged a few feet behind her when she brought it to Will. “A list of musical abominations, written by human hands and performed by human mouths. One of these songs is so bad, it caused the fall of the Berlin Wall! Please spare us the pain of reading it aloud.”

Will took the scroll and read it silently. After a few songs, he had to concede that Sue had a point. The songs listed were really terrible, but even they, he thought, could be saved. If he would do them, or his crew—there were several power ballads on the list that could benefit from Lieutenant Berry's voice, and the rap songs could only become better if he performed them.

Maybe that was what he was supposed to do? Take these bad songs and make them good? Maybe that was the way to win this trial? Better not ask that, though. He had a feeling that Sue would reject a proposal just because he made it, even if it should be her original plan.

Cautiously, he said, “I won't deny there are bad songs out there, but even with humanity's many other accomplishments -” he ignored Sue's derisive snort - “it has produced many more great songs. I would go as far as to say humanity is one of the most talented and versatile races in the galaxy.”

Sue laughed, long and loudly. When she had finished, she said, “Well, that's your word against mine, mon capitaine du menton cul. And since I am an immortal being of near limitless power, and you are but the captain of an inconsequential Gleeship, it is no great puzzle who is right.”

She stroked her chin in a show of intense thinking. “It would be interesting to see, wouldn't it, where humanity would be today if it hadn't wasted all that time and energy on creating inferior music. I think I will make that your punishment, captain: if you lose this trial, I will condemn humanity to a life without music. I will strip every little bit of musical inclination out of every human being in all of time, so that there will never have been any music made in the whole of human history. Isn't that a wonderful idea?”

The crew broke out in gasps and shouts of “No!”, and William, too, was horrified at this idea. He forced himself to stay calm.

“And are we not to be given an opportunity to defend ourselves?” he asked.

“Of course,” Sue answered. “This is a trial, after all. Let it not be said that the Sue were unjust. It's a wasted effort, considering human intelligence, but please... what do you have to say for yourselves?”

William took a deep breath, thoughts racing as he tried to prepare a defense that would sway even that philistine, but before he could speak, Lieutenant Berry rose to her feet.

“Not in talk, Sue. You have accused us of being untalented—let us prove the opposite is true in the only fitting fashion: in song.”

“Oh, no!” Sue answered. “I can not abide singing. But I won't deny there's a certain...primitive logic in what you are saying. So I have a challenge for you: I have accused you of being an untalented race inferior to any other race in the universe. To prove me wrong, you just have to beat the other races: win the Quadrantals.”

 

Then she was gone. The choir room was back to normal, the crew sitting on chairs instead of benches, the table and chair William had been sitting on gone, so he landed painfully on his butt. The place where Sue had been standing was empty.

While Will struggled to his feet, the room around him erupted in uproar. The crew was shouting and talking all at once, all except Lieutenant Commander Hummel, who could be expected to remain calm in even the most unusual of circumstances. Sometimes, William really wished for that kind of serenity.

“Quiet!” he shouted, and one by one, they settled down. As he looked into the distraught faces of his crew, William realized that he was challenged to fulfill his role as a captain like he had never been before.

“We will never win!” Miss Cohen-Chang cried, voice shaky with barely held-back tears. “We've never even reached Quadrantals before!”

“But it has always been our goal,” William said. “Winning Quadrantals would not only win us Sue's trial, but show everyone at Starfleet that the honored tradition of Gleeships is not at an end yet. They would be forced to finally take us seriously.”

“What are we going to do, sir?” Mr. Hummel asked.

“We do exactly what we'd do if this Sue never existed. If we're going to be damned, let's be damned for what we really are.”

He sat down heavily on the piano bench as he considered their options. “Although we probably should rehearse more. And we need to start recruiting new performers.”


	2. Where no Choir has Sung Before

_Captain's Log, Stardate 1312.4. : Finding new crew members with the talents we need has been more difficult than anticipated. It seems the ancient, honorable tradition of Gleeships is, indeed, dying out, and few Starfleet personnel are willing to put their careers into a seeming dead end. I have been forced to use rather unusual methods to find those willing to join us, but I have been successful. Over the next few days, we will welcome four new crew members._

Unusual methods, indeed. Will dared not put these methods into an official log, nor even confide them to a personal one. But Finn Hudson had just been too good to pass up: very good singing voice, though his dancing left much to be desired, but with the education and experience to make him a good first officer. Of course, he had declined, being in the line for his own ship, until Will had acquired, hidden, and then 'found' a forbidden Kitarian game in the young officer's quarters. After that, he had signed up fairly quickly.

Two others had agreed without further....enticement. It had surprised Will at first, but they had seemed rather enthusiastic, and he was sure they would be fine members of his crew.

As for the fourth...well. April Rhodes had been in his year at Starfleet Academy. She hadn't had much going for her except her exceptional singing voice, and she had simply lacked the discipline to make it in Starfleet. One day, she had simply disappeared, and when Will checked her records, he saw that she had never graduated, nor officially quit. Nominally, she was still a member of Starfleet. It had not taken long to find her: at a Dabo table, a glass of something that was definitely no synthehol in her hand, gambling for her dinner. She had accepted his invitation gratefully, and he fully intended to make her a success after all.

April and one of the others would join them today, whereas they would pick up Mr. Hudson and their new counselor in a few days.

“Remind me of who he is again,” he said to Mr. Hummel, who was walking next to him, courteously matching his steps to those of his captain.

“Ensign Blaine Anderson, sir,” the android said. “Engineering. Youngest graduate of Starfleet Academy and lead singer of the Starfleet Academy Warblers.”

Will nodded, determined to make good use of his new crew members' abilities. He put on a welcoming smile as the two people beamed on board.

“Welcome to the Gleeship New Directions. I am Captain William Schuester.”

“Will,” April said, coming towards him with a big smile. She stumbled as she stepped off the platform and pressed against him when he caught her. She also smelled of drink, but if he remembered her voice correctly, it would be worth it. There would be no more drinking for her; there was only synthehol available on the ship. He had decreed it after some crew members had barfed on stage during a performance of a song by Ferengi singer Ke-Latinum-Ha.

The other arrival, a young man in a brand new Starfleet uniform, kept standing on the platform, staring mesmerized at...Lieutenant Commander Hummel?

“Ensign...?” Will asked.

“Oh! Excuse me,” Ensign Anderson said with a charming smile. “It's just...you are the Android, aren't you?” He hurried from the platform to stand before Mr. Hummel, practically bouncing with excitement.

“That is correct,” Mr. Hummel said.

“I majored in Cybernetics,” the ensign said. “You were the subject of quite a few of my studies. It's because of you I wanted this position. I'm looking forward to working with you.”

“I heard you were the lead singer of the Starfleet Academy Warblers. We can use your talents.”

“I'm happy to be here!” Mr. Anderson said with an enthusiasm he seemed to dedicate to everything he did. He stared again at Mr. Hummel. “Is it true that you can reach notes humans can't even hear?”

“I am able to reach any existing note,” Mr Hummel replied. “Although I usually limit myself to a more usual human range in order to -”

“Later, Hummel!” the captain interrupted. “You will have sufficient opportunity to talk to the ensign at another time.” Then he smiled. He had a good feeling about this.

Unfortunately, it didn't last long.

 

An hour or so later, after having shown the new arrivals to their quarters and invited them to an informal welcome gathering in Ten Forward at nineteen hundred hours, Will was in his ready room, engaged in a particularly frustrating communication with Starfleet Admiral Figgins.

“No, William, you can't go over Warp 5 to get a tactical advantage over the Klingons,” the admiral said, his face on the screen showing a very unpleasant expression of determination.

“But, admiral-” the captain argued. It was an environmental issue, sure, but surely his reasons were valid.

“No! Starfleet regulations forbid going over Warp 5 except in cases of emergency, and winning Quadrantals is not an emergency.”

“It is, especially if that condition still stands,” the captain said sullenly. “You can't pressure us -”

“I can, William, and indeed I must. Starfleet means are tight, and every ship is needed. If you don't place at Quadrantals, the New SS Directions will be used for purposes other than Glee, and you will probably be replaced as captain.”

“But we can be the best Gleeship in the galaxy, I know we can!“

“Then prove it. My hands are tied, William. There's nothing I can do for you.”

Will leaned back tiredly and sighed. It would be hard to win without any tactical advantage, especially if Vulcan Adrenaline and the Klingons would win their respective Sectorials, which he did not doubt. The admiral's conditions hardly seemed of import against the erasure of all music, with which the Sue had threatened them, but it still added another layer of pressure on his crew and himself.

* * *

 

Lieutenant Arthur Abrams, called Artie by most, looked up form his tinkering with a puzzled smile when he heard the door open. Nobody ever came here; but then he remembered there was to be a new crew member in engineering.

Not one, but two people entered, and engineering suddenly seemed pretty crowded.

“Lieutenant,” one of them said, “I'm Blaine Anderson. I am to work with you here, and I thought it best to acquaint myself with the premises, if it's alright with you.”

“And I'm April,” the woman said. “I'm not sure where I'll end up, so I thought I'd look around a little.”

“Well, I can surely use some help,” Artie said and fought to hide a grin. These two came at exactly the right time.

He led them into an adjacent cargo hold that, at the moment, looked more like a junkyard.

“These are old photon torpedoes,” he explained. “They have to be cleaned of silicium before we can dispose of them. The computer will do all the work, but you have to stand by and check nothing is overlooked.”

It was a rookie's job, boring and unchallenging but necessary, and leaving it to them would give him the time for a few much-needed repairs.

Looking into the rather unenthusiastic faces of his new colleagues, he pressed his comm badge.

“Abrams to captain: I'd like to go under Warp for a while until while I do some maintenance, sir. We'll need about two hours.”

April grinned. “Two hours, eh? How long will it really take?”

“Two hours, give or take a few minutes,” Artie said, confused.

“What? You never tell your boss the time you'll really need. Always add at least an hour, better more. You have more time if you make mistakes, and if you don't and you make it in less, you look like a genius.” April was shaking her head.

It wasn't bad advice, Artie thought. There had been times when he'd had to ask for more time to complete a task, to the displeasure of his superiors. With April's trick, that wouldn't happen again.

* * *

 

“Well,” Blaine said, scratching his head while he watched the green numbers flicker over the computer screen. “There is probably no need for both of us to be here. You could go and visit another department, if you'd like.”

But April shook her head. “I have a better idea. If we beam all that stuff right into the warp core, it will burn without residue. We will be spared all that tedious work, and we'll have diposed of the torpedoes as well, which is what they want anyway.”

Blaine stared at her with an open mouth. For her, a mere cadet, to go so clearly around the orders of a superior officer, was....he had never seen like it. Even the boldest students at the academy had not been that brazen. He couldn't help but admire her a little bit.

“We've been given our orders,” he protested. “It's our first day. We shouldn't....”

“Oh, but you haven't been personally commended by Dean Tibideaux just because you follow orders so well, have you, Anderson? What about showing initiative, thinking outside the box?”

“But you can't be sure that everything will burn without residue. Besides, won't it disrupt the warp core? My calculations clearly show -”

“I have been beaming things into the warp core when you were still pooping your diapers, boy. I know what I'm doing.”

Blaine didn't know what to do. He outranked her, so she should do what he said - but it was true, she was more experienced, so shouldn't he defer to her?

As he was still thinking, April suddenly got to work without further consulting him. She started beaming the photon torpedoes into the warp core, and after staring at her for some more, he shrugged and helped.

Although the cargo hold started to look considerably less cluttered in a very short time, Blaine was sure they had done something wrong when strange noises started to come from the warp core. April seemed unconcerned; in fact, she had now started to pick up random tools, look at them for a while and then either put them down again or beamed them into the warp core as well.

“What are you doing?” he asked. “These are tools, not junk, you can't just -”

She signaled for him to be quiet, her face drawn in concentration and, Blaine thought, exhaustion. He left her sitting there and went back into engineering, determined on finding out where the strange noises the warp core made were coming from. At first, everything looked normal, but then the pulse frequency of the warp core started to accelerate until itwas so high that the warp core seemed to be a single glowing pillar.

Lieutenant Abrams glared at him from behind a computer screen and shouted, “What have you done? It was a simple command I gave you! You should have done nothing that resulted in this!”

Suddenly the ship stopped abruptly and the lights in engineering went out. Only the regular  flashes of the red alerd shed a little light.

In nearly complete darkness, Blaine and Lieutenant Abrams stared at the warp core and tried to decide what had gone wrong.

Then, the captain's voice sounded from the comm system: “All senior personnel to the bridge!”

* * *

 

“Where are we?” frantic voices asked, and, “Position undetermined,” Mr. Hummel answered.

“We could be anywhere!” the captain said.

“Anywhere at all!” Mr. Puck shouted.

“I surmise we are at the edge of the universe,” Mr. Hummel stated matter-of-factly. “Where none have gone before.”

“Where no choir has sung before!” Lieutenant Berry excitedly said. “The acoustics could be something completely new, we should test them at once!”

“Anderson to bridge,” came a voice from the comm system, “something seems wrong with Cadet -”

“Not now, ensign!” the captain interrupted, his attention on the ruckus on the bridge and the fact that his ship was wherever, light years away from home.

“To the conference room,” he ordered his senior officers. “We have to determine what happened here and what to do about it,”

 

Once seated along the large table, the senior officers seemed to remember that they were exactly that, and behaved much more orderly. Still, the captain sighed. He really needed a first officer to remind everyone of their duties.

“Suggestions,” he said.

“Could it have to do with the Sue?” Lieutenant Berry asked.

William groaned at the thought. “We can't rule her out completely. If it's her, though -”

”I don't think it was her,” Lieutenant Abrams interrupted. “I think it happened in engineering. I had left Ensign Anderson and Cadet Rhodes with the task to supervise the cleaning of the photon torpedoes, and then suddenly the warp core was going crazy.”

* * *

 

The new ensign Blaine Anderson looked slightly desperate as he contemplated the warp core that was still making weird noises and the unconscious April in his arms. She had fainted shortly after Lieutenant Abrams has disappeared to the bridge, when whatever had happened had happened.

“Anderson to sickbay,” he tried, touching his comm badge.

“Here Dr. Pillsbury,” a friendly voice answered, and he smiled relieved. “The new cadet has fainted. Her vitals are stable, but she is awfully pale and her pulse is fast.”

“I'll be there at once.”

While the petite, red-headed Dr. Pillsbury tended to April, Blaine tried to figure out what had gone wrong. He knew by now that they had moved, that the ship had gone many light years from their original position without anyone intending it to be so. Except, maybe...he remembered April suggesting they beam things into the warp core, and beaming even more into it then was necessary to clean up. She had looked strangely focused and determined, and then tired and pale as if the beaming had cost her...Could it be she had been sabotaging them? But why? And what could he do to bring them back?

“Maybe we could reverse the polarity,” he muttered. “That often seems to work...or maybe...”

He needed Lieutenant Abrams for that. Hesitantly, he touched his comm badge again, hoping for someone to listen to him. Before he could speak, however, a stern voice sounded through the comm.

“Anderson and Rhodes to the conference room!”

“On my way, sir,” he answered and went to tell Dr Pillsbury he was leaving. She nodded distractedly while still tending April.

In the conference room, he indulged in a moment of awe that he was here on this ship. He would never have dreamed of seeing this room so soon, though. It was used for meetings with high-ranking diplomats and important discussion among the senior officers. For him to be here....could only mean one thing, he realized as he noticed the faces of his superiors looking at him with less than friendly expressions.

“Where is Cadet Rhodes?” the captain asked, and Blaine answered,

“In sickbay, sir. She fell ill after....after-”

“After what?”

Blaine stood to attention as he remorsefully reported what had happened in engineering. When he was finished, he added, “But I think I've figured out what -”

“I think you've done quite enough for today, Ensign. Go back to your work - your real work.”

 

Blaine was torn. He wanted to follow orders, he really did, but he knew he could make this right. So he lingered for a moment longer and tried to catch Lieutenant Abrams' eye, signalizing he needed to speak to him as soon as possible. Then he went back to enigneering, where he couldn't do his work because there were no photon torpedoes left to be cleaned.

So he waited. Fortunately, it was not overly long until Lieutenant Abrams appeared, still obviously upset. But Blaine wasted no time with apologies. The only way he could make up for his lapse of judgment was to make things right again.

“I think we need to figure out what we beamed into the warp core, then turn the ship and beam exactly the same things into it again,” he said without preamble, watching Abrams shift from anger to contemplation as he thought over the suggestion.

At long last, the senior officer nodded. “You might be right...and if not, you can hardly take us further from home than we are now - or make things worse for you, I might add. I'll give order to turn the ship, you try to remember what you put in there. I think we can discount the dust and scrap pieces, at least—or I hope so, anyway.”

But there was someone else they needed for this to work, at least if Blaine was right in his assumption. So he visited sickbay.

April was lying on a bed, fortunately alone. She looked much better.

“You played a role in taking us wherever we are now, didn't you,” Blaine accused gently. “I don't know how, or why, but you did.”

Slowly, she nodded. “I like to travel. I wanted to be very very far away, so I could really make a new beginning, you know?”

“Well, you certainly succeeded in getting us very, very far away. We're at the edge of the universe.”

“Oops,” April giggled. “I didn't mean to go quite that far. No wonder I fainted! I've never gone so far before!” She sat up. “This is so exciting! We're were no one has ever been! There will be so much to discover!” She looked at Blaine. “You don't look excited.”

He shook his head. “I'm not. No one is. We have obligations -”

“Pish,” she scoffed. “Life isn't just obligations. Go have an adventure!”

“A lot of us also have families that don't live on the ship. From where we are now, it could be many years until we see them again.”

April's face fell. “Oh. I didn't consider that. That's awful! I never meant to do that!”

“Is there a way to bring us back?”

“I don't know...”

“Well, how did you do it in the first place?”

“I can do things with my thoughts. When I concentrate hard enough on something, I can make it happen. Kudos for figuring it out, by the way. People like you make traveling so exciting.”

“Can you do the same thing again, but in reverse?” He looked at her still-pale face. “I mean, without dying?”

* * *

 

“There was an interphasic compensator, I'm sure. It was broken somehow, but I don't remember where. Let's hope it's okay as it is,” Lieutenant Abrams said, looking with regret at another tool that would soon be gone.

“A flux coupler,” Ensign Anderson said. “and a dualitic inverter...probably.”

“Let's add a few scraps of metal for good measure—there. That should do it, hopefully.”

The two men looked at each other and nodded, waited until April nodded back at them, and then beamed the small heap of things into the warp core. For a second, nothing happened, but then the warp core started to make the weird sounds again and the ship lurched. Blaine dared a tentative smile.

“Abrams to bridge—where are we?”

“Not quite back home, but in familiar coordinates again. Well done, Lieutenant.”

* * *

 

Their little celebration in Ten Forward looked different than expected. It was a welcome for Blaine Anderson, but a farewell for April Rhodes, who, it had been decided, would not be a good fit with the crew after all. She was quite glad to be gone, as well, since her brief experience with shipboard life and its rules and regulations had not suited her. At their performance of Home, however, she sang lead, and everyone agreed she would visit.

“In spite of his mistake, Ensign Anderson has already proven to be a valuable member of our crew,” the captain announced at the end of the little party while Blaine blushed. “For bringing us home, I promote him to Junior Lieutenant. I'm sure his talent as a performer will be equally great. For now, though, it is time to get us to Draygo IV, where our new first officer awaits us. Engage.”

**Author's Note:**

> Capitaine du menton cul is supposed to mean Captain Buttchin


End file.
